Where Gods go to die
by bitterviolet
Summary: Odin found him when he was cast out by Jotunheim, reduced into nothing more than a bloodied, savage animal. "You treat me like a dog. Why should I act any different?" The story of how Asgard tamed the seemingly mindless beast. Jotun!Loki with whump, no slash.
1. Prologue: Take what you came for

_Prologue: Take what you came for_

Spine straight, chin high, eyes just above the horizon. Walk like a king, for you are one. A true king.

That was the mantra Odin Borson kept repeating inwardly as he took carefully measured steps towards the Jotun temple. The warriors cleared a path for him as he approached the huge ice construction, howling words of joy and relief into his ears as he went. They were all covered in the blood of the enemy – slick, scarlet blood that didn't differ as much from their own as Odin would have liked. He sidestepped the body of a fallen Jotun soldier, clasping his hands behind his back to hide the tremor that ran through them at the sight.

Showing weakness was unbecoming of a king, after all.

He felt a strong hang gripping his shoulder for the briefest of seconds, but didn't stop to acknowledge the victorious cry of the warrior. He saw as someone tripped over a cerulean colored corpse, paying no heed to the pool of blood he nearly fell into.

Shoulders squared, chin high, eyes above the horizon…

The temple towered over him menacingly, not possessing the always so welcoming warmth the Palace of Asgard did. Then again, he did not expect to find any warmth at a frozen wasteland such as this doomed realm.

A fallen realm now, thanks to Odin.

The All-Father strode up to the entrance without a glance at the bodies of the slaughtered guards lying limply on the stairs, not willing to show his uncertainty regarding his destination.

Shoulders straight... like a true king…

All his doubt dissolved the moment he stepped inside the vast monument. This was the place, he just knew it. He felt it in the chill of the air – the foul smell of rust unable to overpower the pure essence of his purpose.

The feeling of dread was slowly replaced as he marched up to the altar with renewed confidence. The small spheres of light hovered in the air, marking his path with bright colors that reflected over the thin layers of ice covering the walls. Odin felt the pull towards the distinctly blue cube that lay in the center of the temple – the same pull he felt towards the place since the very minute he set foot in the frozen realm.

The Casket of Ancient Winters. The Heart of Jotunheim.

So, this was the reason he led his forces to Utgard, after all. Ungainly as it may seem to come from a king, the All-Father did not come here to merely win a war today. Success was welcomed of course, necessary even to restore the peace of Asgard… but right from the start – even before the treaty broke – Odin knew that triumph would not be his main purpose at the end. Not this time.

He felt hesitant after they took over the city, just a few minutes ago, wondering why he missed the usual feeling of triumph heating his veins.

Now he knew.

Anticipation grew within him with every step he took among the high columns, hoping that the strange pull to the Casket would subdue once he claimed it to be his own. He took the stairs to the dais and conjured a glass holder, knowing that the item would not tolerate the touch of an Aesir, and placed it over the magical artifact hastily. Greedily, one would dare say.

The surges of blue energy weakened under the push of Odin's power, making the strange spheres of light flicker. The king's brows furrowed in concentration, and then, after a few heartbeats, most of the spheres died out.

The Casket vanished into thin air along with its holder, and Odin let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Finally. Now the war was truly over.

He turned on his heel and descended the stairs, not allowing himself to be taken over by the satisfied smile he felt like having even for a moment. A true king showed no fear before, no mercy during, and no gratification after a battle. Not even when there was nobody to witness it.

He nearly reached the entrance when all of a sudden his shoulders grew heavy with unfulfilled expectation. His breath caught in his throat.

Not again…

What was it that Jotunheim wanted him to take? Was it not the Casket? Was it not the last wish of a dying world that at least her heart would be preserved safely in his vault?

He turned around and made his way back to the Altar. He saw nothing that would benefit him if he took it. Nothing he would wish to possess, nothing he would need. Nothing that shouldn't be left in the realm of the Frost Giants.

His people were waiting. Waiting for him to emerge from the temple, waiting for him to show them the treasure he acquired – the prize they got for defending Asgard so bravely. If he had to leave with this feeling of nerve wrecking ambiguity, then so be it. He couldn't delay his retreat from Jotunheim anymore.

A soft rustle of fabric. A quite, almost inaudible gasp.

Odin was glad he didn't let that smile take over his features moments ago, for now he realized, he wasn't alone.

"Show yourself!"

Another rustle could be heard from behind the altar, but whatever hid there didn't show any intentions to obey Odin's command.

"Reveal yourself now, Jotun! I thought your kind would detest taking cover in the shadows."

No response. Odin sighed. He really didn't feel like dealing with a coward who hid in a sacred place while the rest of his comrades were fighting for their home...

Bile rose in his throat at the thought of the corpses lying just outside the temple. He might not want to deal with the Jotun runaway, but he had even less of a wish to face the remains of the world awaiting him beyond the entrance. Accepting war was necessary alright; Odin wouldn't have initiated a battle unless it was absolutely inevitable, yet he couldn't help but feel sorry for the fallen world. He was still the protector of the Nine Realms – _**all**_ of the realms – after all, but he knew his sense of loss wouldn't be understood by the Aesir. Today was a day of victory for them, and they wouldn't stop mourning over the fallen warriors – not if they skin bore the color of the Midgardian sky, at least…

The pull he felt towards the center of the temple didn't seem to ease, and truth to be told, he was rather curious as to why a specimen of a seemingly fearless race would refuse to rise to a battle. Just a wall away, a loud voice was already planning the feast they would have upon their return, and it made Odin cave at once. Maybe he had a moment to spare before his return.

"Come out, Jotun. I have no fight left in me for today."

Oh, but he did. The Frost Giants were a formidable enemy and he would have lied if he said he wasn't bone dead tired, but Odin could still easily take a single opponent. Easily even more if necessary, but his current enemy didn't need to know that.

Tired of being ignored the king walked around the dais, readying Gungnir in case the Jotun decided to attack. He did not harbor such plans, apparently.

The All-Father eyed the back of the altar suspiciously; the snow-white drape almost reached the ground, giving a perfect hideout for the being taking its cover. The man's heartbeat quickened as he realized that the unfamiliar pull on his shoulders got stronger and stronger as he reached to remove the cloth. What in the name of the Realms had Jotunheim have in store for him?

"Ee nivv'eh swol."

Odin could have sworn his heart skipped a beat for the first time in his very long life in an as literal sense as it gets. The pleading, soft voice was clearly coming from behind the drape, and the king was suddenly anxious about what he would find once he raised it completely. That shaking, broken voice most certainly did not belong to a Jotun soldier. It didn't belong to an adult, even…

"Nivv'eh… nivv'eh s-swol. Kinna... Ul enay krowa."

Odin's blood froze once he caught sight of the small creature sitting on the cold stone. It was a child, obviously trying to take up as little space as physically possible. Not that it was a hard task – it was awfully small for a Jotun child. Its knees were pulled up tightly to its chest, but Odin could see no horns under the mop of its jet black hair.

A little sorceress then.

The Aesir King wasn't overly familiar with the anatomy of the Frost Giants, but he knew that sorceresses were cursed with a smaller, weaker body than the rest of their women…

But certainly not as much weaker as this little girl appeared to be.

Magic users were not as much of a rarity here as they were in Asgard, but a rarity nonetheless, and as far as he knew, the Jotnar pretty much worshipped the ground they walked upon. No healthy child should have arms and legs so thin, let alone a Seidr… and who would leave a child wander alone in the outer parts of the city during an invasion anyway? There must have been a reason she was here…

Odin crouched down to take a better look at the tiny being, but his sight was unable to pick upon anything that could be of importance. She was hiding her body from view pretty effectively, and the few remaining lights didn't make it any easier for him to see either.

With a flick of his wrist a bright, yellow light came to life just above his head, but he didn't have time to look at young one properly, as the child's next move caught him by surprise.

Her sharp, blood-red eyes shot up at him suddenly, and before he could even begin to process what he was seeing the girl jumped up from her spot and attacked him with an ear-piercing shriek.

"Ul krowa! Ee vizmmu ul enay krowa!"

Odin fell onto his bottom with a resounding bump. Not very king-like, he had to admit.

The young Jotun seemed to be surprised by how easily she managed to push him out of balance just as much as he was. There was a moment of shocked silence between the two before her eyes widened comically in realization, and she crawled back to her previous spot with shaking limbs before Odin could reach for her.

"Ee… Ee nivv'eh… Kinna! Ee nivv'eh swol!"

It took the All-Father a moment to decipher the meaning of those words, but after looking at those large, shining eyes, there was no doubt left in him regarding what the child was saying.

She was begging him. For what, he did not know… mercy, perhaps? Did she think he would kill her?

Odin got back to his feet hastily, looking around to make sure nobody witnessed his moment of clumsiness. Oh, if Frigga could see him right now…

The child let out a sound of distress upon looking up at him though, and taking pity on the poor thing he crunched back down, trying to appear less threatening in her eyes.

Just as he did so, he was hit by a horrific realization he suddenly didn't know how he could miss up until now.

The sorceress was not a sorceress at all. It was a **_sorcerer._**

The sharp lines of his face were heavily accentuated by malnourishment, but those features most definitely did not belong to a girl. The slightly torn loincloth did not cover him below the waist entirely either, and reality finally caught up with the protector of the realms.

The kid was an orphan. He didn't know much about how Laufey ruled his kingdom during the last centuries, but he heard about the horrible fate of the male babes that were unfortunate enough to be born as Seidr in Jotunheim. It was a rare occasion, but highly frowned upon in the frozen realm – at least, lately. Laufey's ideology apparently tolerated no such weaknesses in his empire as sorcerers. They were considered to be runts, killed right after birth if they were lucky.

The one currently shaking like a leaf in front of him was not one of the luckier ones, it seemed.

"Ki… kinna," the gi—_**boy**_ pleaded through gritted teeth, his broken demeanor prompting the king to try and reassure him – even if the young one had no way to understand him.

"Shh, I'm not going to hurt you, child," he muttered as he scooted closer to him, careful not to get within arm's reach. The boy pressed himself against the altar as tightly as he could, his fearful expression making Odin wish they wouldn't have cast Jotun out of the All-Speak all those millennia ago. It was just another hateful way the other realms tried to differentiate themselves from the Giants. Most of the Jotnar learnt the All-Speak with ease though, why, oh why didn't anybody bother to teach this little one as well?

'_Because he is runt, that's why.'_

The boy's status became even more obvious when the king intensified the brightness of the light that illuminated them… and it was Odin's turn to widen his eyes to impossible levels.

There were dark patches of burned skin where the runt's birthmarks should have been. Deep, angrily red flesh replaced the white lines in most places, encircled by dead, smoke black tissue. The wrists, the forearms, the shoulders, the legs, the cheeks… there was no sight of white on the pitiful being, not even on his waist or on his chest. His birthmarks had been burned down to the flesh _**everywhere**_.

Whoever sired the ill-fated boy went to great lengths to prevent anyone from finding out his parentage. Such drastic measures, such cruelty… Odin couldn't even begin to imagine something like this to happen on Asgard. True, using Seidr was not encouraged among their men either, but nobody has ever been punished solely for being born as a sorcerer. No child should ever been punished so fiercely for something like—

No. No child should be punished so fiercely, ever. There was no plausible excuse for torturing a youngster.

"Kinna… Ul krowa…" came the fearful prayer once again, and while Odin still wasn't sure what the creature was asking for, he noticed that the frightful glances were cast more often towards the light than himself.

'_Ah, but of course! He must think it is made of fire!'_

It made sense, really. The kid has been burnt severely, it was no wonder he dreaded the element. Torturing someone with fire was considered especially cruel among the Frost Giants - it was seldom used in the land of ice, with magic being able to replace its practical uses easily…

With the Casket. The same one he was taking from them now.

No, this was no time to drown in guilt. The Giants slaughtered more Aesir than he could count – they made Jotunheim spit her own heart out, right into the hands of people who were able to appreciate its power and fragility. There was nothing, nothing he could do to help this realm right now, for she needed time to heal herself...

'_Shoulders straight, chin high…'_

But maybe… maybe there was something he could do to help the boy at least. He looked like he needed more than just time to heal himself.


	2. Chapter 1: Define your purpose

_Chapter 1: Define your purpose_

It was common knowledge that underestimating a Jotun was a mistake you more often than not paid for with your blood at the end. Apparently, the unwritten rule applied even if you were the King of the Nine Realms, and said Jotun was but a mere child.

Odin bit back a hiss as he hastily freed his hand from the mouth of the boy. Well, maybe the term animal would be more suitable to describe the creature, considering he nearly managed to bite a chunk out of his palm. The man struggled to coerce the child out of his shelter for painfully long minutes, but when his words did not bring the desired effect he decided to reach for the young one.

Now, _**that**_ proved to be a grave mistake.

As soon as he grasped the wrist of the small creature, the runt let out a blood-chilling shriek and attacked him with an incentive Odin did not expect from a bloodied, nearly starved to death being. He tried to restrain the Jotun, but there was barely any undamaged skin on the lithe body, and unintentionally touching one of his wounds only aggravated him further. Odin would have been impressed by the screaming and trashing he could produce even in his wounded state – if he wouldn't be so busy staring at the imprint the blunt teeth left at the back of his hand. Thankfully, the Seidr did not seem to possess the sharp incisors the Jotnar warriors typically had, but he surely could lock his jaw with a might that would put the most ferocious wolves of Asgard to shame.

Frustrated with the reception his intent was met with Odin stood up at once, contemplating simply turning around and leaving the orphan to his fate. Surely, it couldn't really be the child that Jotunheim wanted him to take, could it? No, that was a foolish thought. It was only his own sentiment driving him into false hopes about being able to help the outcast. It must have been. He might have seen many horrible things during his life, but experience did not ease the heartache one felt upon witnessing the suffering of a child.

A foolish sentiment really, nothing more.

Still, he did not move to get back to his people, not yet.

After taking a deep breath, the king decided to approach the problem from a slightly different angle. He didn't wish to cause any more physical pain to the Jotun by dragging him along with force, but it was clear he would not get the child to follow him on his own accord. He needed his powers to deal with this one.

Odin raised his uninjured hand and released a surge of magic towards the runt – only to be met with resistance once again. He tried once more, a bit harsher this time, but surely enough, the kid repelled his attempt at rendering him unconscious without batting an eye.

If the All-Father wanted proof of the boy being a sorcerer, he most definitely got one.

Green mist crackled around the fragile, tortured body, assembling into cold flames every time Odin tried to make his way through. He had to admit that despite his age and obvious social status, the Seidr was rather adept at his craft. Red eyes narrowed at him in exertion as he strengthened his assault, but the boy refused to give in.

Still, Odin was king for a reason – there was no being in the universe that could match him in power, especially not a sorcerer who barely lived through his first decade.

The wall of the Jotun's magic cracked slightly under his push, but when Odin heard the now familiar voice cry out in agony, he ceased his attack immediately. He did not realize how much force he had to put into his advances, not until he ceased them.

'_Rather adept indeed... Maybe… maybe Jotunheim does have a reason to demand your absence after all, little one.'_

The boy would surely not cave under lighter pressure, but the king knew he could add some serious damage to those injuries if he were to continue at this rate.

Ah, the joys of dealing with stubborn children. If only Frigga was here… She would know what to do for sure.

"Senseless child," he murmured half-heartedly at the blue skinned sorcerer, ignoring the childish nature of his own words as he turned on his heel and made his way back to the Aesir waiting outside. There was only one way he would be able to take the Jotun with him at this point, and he most definitely was not going to be the one to follow through the process. He wouldn't force himself to hit a child… not that one, not after he already caused him pain.

"Torvin," he called as he reached the red haired warrior, not paying heed to the on-going roars that did not seem to die down since he left for the temple.

"Yes, my King," replied the bearded man, offering a relieved smile for his superior. The joyous expression however, turned into a frown when he noticed the unease on the All-Father's face. "Is there a problem, my King?"

"There is a child in that temple. Fetch him."

The silence that fell over those within earshot spread to the rest of the army with rapid succession.

"A child, my Lord? What use—"

"Knock him unconscious, but make sure to do no further harm. You know best where to hit," Odin spoke with confidence, daring anyone to challenge his wisdom. "Take two men with you," he added as an afterthought, though he could not name the deity that prompted him to add the last part of his command.

Only the Spirit of this frozen realm knew the reason behind his actions today, it seemed.

* * *

Odin's suspicions were proven just before he led his men back to their homeland, as one man, as it turned out, would not have been enough to pacify the orphan. It took them almost ten minutes to tranquilize the wild stray, and the king felt a strange sense of proudness when Torvin and his two comrades emerged from the temple with an unconscious Jotun…

And several, rather deep looking welts on their faces and forearms, filled with their own, scarlet blood.

Odin expected the Aesir to protest against taking a Frost Giant into Asgard, but much to his surprise, Torvin nipped most of the quarrels in the bud, urging people to trust the King's judgment.

The reason behind the warrior's actions became clear once Odin stepped inside the chamber where the Healers were currently tending to the newcomer – with wary movements after seeing Torvin's face, might he add. The child was lying on an uncomfortable looking table, his vital signs displayed in an orange mist above his motionless body. His burns seemed even more severe in proper lighting, but oddly enough, it wasn't the extent of his injuries that shocked Odin into speechlessness once more.

There, right across the forehead of the creature were two, thin white lines that somehow managed to evade the damage of the blue skin. The clearly discernable birthmarks were no longer covered by the mop of that wild, raven hair, and suddenly, Odin understood where Torvin's easy acceptance came from.

The runt belonged to Laufey. Jotunheim apparently urged him to tear her only rightful prince from his home, though her aim was still unfathomable for the All-Father.

What such a deed would entail was beyond him, too. The realm obviously wanted to save the disowned prince, but she did not reveal her future plans with the child. Would she demand him back once he was of age to take the throne? Could he even take the throne one day? Sorcerers were not meant to stay alive among the Giants, let alone rule the kingdom…

But then again, Jotunheim made it painfully clear that Laufey was not meant to rule her, either.

Would Odin be forced to return the mistreated prince back to his motherland one day?

Anger boiled the blood of his veins at the concept, but it was gone just after the briefest of seconds – long before he could detect its origin. No matter; he had better things to do than dwell on his own uncertainties right now – the luxury of getting lost in the depths of his own mind would have to wait for the sake of the boy.

Eir's hands were hovering above the kid with the bright yellow color of her healing magic, while another woman placed comfrey leaves to a particularly gruesome burn at his forearm. Odin was no stranger to witnessing gore. He had partaken in more battles than he could possibly count – seeing the blood and the tortured flesh of his comrades was nothing he was not accustomed to. Yet, seeing a child in such a state… What would he do if it was his own son lying there motionlessly, his life depending on the skill of the Healers? What would he do if it was Thor there – his little, precious Thor, maddened by pain, begging for the torment to stop…

Involuntarily, Odin winced at the thought. King or no king, the father in him wanted to look away and deny the very possibility that something like that could ever happen to a child. Something that would reduce them into such screaming, clawing, mindless beasts...

"There is nothing more I can do for him right now, I'm afraid," came Eir's voice as she reluctantly lowered her hands, examining the result of her work with concerned eyes. Odin found some comfort in the fact that she did not seem to have issues with treating a Frost Giant, but an equally concerned expression must have crept up on his face upon taking in the boy's current state, since the Healer gifted him with the reassuring smile he was already well-acquainted with. It was a smile for the relatives, a smile for the friends of a patient whose life hung merely by a silken thread. "His body is weak, too weak to absorb any more of my magic at this moment. We will have to wait a day or two to finish closing up the wounds."

Odin merely nodded at the words of the woman, but Eir seemed to sense his distress despite the cold mask he was wearing as an expression.

"He will be fine, I believe," she went on, "He was forced to endure pain that would have most likely killed a lesser man, but I see—"

"For how long?"

The healer's eyebrows furrowed as if in pain, but the steadiness of her voice did not give way to her apparent unease.

"I am… uncertain. Months, at least. There are scars that could be older than a year. Whoever did this to him… Let's just say they knew what they were doing. I'm glad you brought him to me. He wouldn't have lasted much longer without proper care."

The All-Father's hands curled into fists behind his back, but he gave no sign of emotion that the Seidr woman could see.

'…_find them… will be Hel to pay…'_

Months. Years, perhaps, spent being exposed to the unforgiving heat of fire… and the Norns only knew to what else.

Odin did not want to listen anymore. He heard more than enough for a lifetime.

"Can I trust you with him, Eir?"

There was a brief pause before the Healer answered, her scrutinizing gaze no doubt trying to figure out the king's motives. Poor woman. She was looking for a purpose he had yet to figure out himself.

"I will protect him with my life, my King."

Odin shouldn't have been surprised at the promise that left Eir's mouth. She, of all people, would know what it was like to be cast out by your own realm. She has never been quick to judge – apparently not even when it came to Frost Giants, but nonetheless, he was quite taken with the loyalty she sometimes displayed towards Asgard. Towards him. If he was to be honest with himself, he didn't know if he could show the same devotion, were they roles reversed.

"Send for me if he awakens."

"Of course."

The king left the room without sparing another glance at the Jotun, purposefully taking a longer path to his chambers only so he wouldn't have to pass the Grand Hall and the now surely on-going festivities. He had to think, had to sort his own thoughts out before he could face his people.

What was he going to say to the Aesir about the child? He couldn't keep his presence a secret; rumors spread like wildfire among the citizens, especially if they were related to a battle. He did not fear people getting a word about the boy's heritage, thought. Torvin was probably the only person who could tell he was Laufey's brat, having faced the Jotun king personally, and Odin was far from questioning the man's tact after all the battles they fought together. Torvin belonged to those few whom he knew enough to trust with his life, and their history gave him no reason to doubt that the warrior would keep the kid's parentage a secret. He was a man who knew when to remain silent, which was a rather rare treat among the Aesir.

But was it really a wise decision to keep the Jotun's name a secret? People were going to know about him if he was going to live here indeed…

'_A Jotun, living in Asgard. Never thought I would see the day.'_

What would he tell them, then? What reason would he have to keep a blue skinned Giant around? If he revealed the truth about his parentage, he could argue that he took him as a prisoner of war, ensuring that Laufey would not initiate a battle again. They didn't necessarily need to know he was an outcast, or a runt for that matter. Nobody would even have to see him if he was kept in the dungeons. People would not ask question, would not require explanations. Keeping him as a prisoner would be easy.

But Odin didn't want to keep the boy as a prisoner. No, he simply couldn't look at the little one as if he was some kind of trophy with the mere purpose of being a reminder of a past victory. He wasn't just a stolen relic that held the promise of a possibly peaceful future.

He was a _**child**_… and Odin wanted to treat him accordingly.

Why, he still did not know. Perhaps it was his guilt for ruining a realm, or just some kind of belated, misguided sense of fairness that demanded equality for the hopeless. Perhaps it was the effect of the analogy that came to his mind about his own son earlier. Perhaps he simply pitied the unfortunate being. Perhaps it was Jotunheim's wish that didn't leave him peace. Perhaps, perhaps…

…perhaps there was another way… a way where he could give the child a proper chance. Perhaps he didn't have to force the sorcerer into a cage after all...

But that plot would be… hard to follow through, to say the least. Way harder than simple imprisonment. Maybe impossible, even.

But then again, it wasn't only Jotunheim that was ripe for change, was it? No matter how hard the Aesir may deny, changes in Asgard have been long overdue as well, and as a king, it was his duty to help her through the adjustments – regardless of how rocky of a path she chose to take.

He spotted his wife as soon as he stepped into his chambers – _**their**_ chambers – and some of the tension left his shoulders when she greeted him with her usual, warm smile. A smile that managed to convince him that everything would turn out alright at the end, even during his darkest hours.

Odin wasn't an ungrateful man by any means, but he never felt gladder to have Frigga by his side. He would need her help more than ever to accomplish what he currently had in mind. But first of all, he had something even more important to gain than her help… something he wasn't actually sure she would be willing to provide.

For the first time the Father of the Nine Realms could remember, he needed Frigga's blessing.


	3. Chapter 2: Convince your Queen

_Chapter 2: Convince your Queen_

"Absolutely not!"

Frigga turned away from her husband hastily, not even trying to mask the anger in her voice. "A Jotun, Odin? Have you gone out of your mind? Where did you even get that idea from?"

"Our family is not yet complete Frigga, you said it yourself. This is the perfect chance to—"

"That was _**not**_ what I meant, and you know it!" she took a few steps towards the window and let out an exasperated sigh. There was truth behind Odin's words – she had said that indeed. More than once even – maybe one too many times if her husband's insistence was anything to go by. She had meant to give Thor a little brother, or a little sister perhaps, but Odin's idea was simply outrageous. Adopting a Frost Giant into their family was not among her plans for their future. What was the king even thinking? "This… this is not the way, Odin! There must be something else you can do to keep him out of prison. Please, my dear, listen to reason…"

"You haven't even seen him—"

"I saw Torvin and Agvald! He attacked them, Odin! Think about what he could do to Thor! Ignore my words all you want, but think about your son's safety at least!"

"I am not ignoring your words, Frigga. You are my wife and my queen, and I do not intend to make this decision without your consent. I'm merely asking you pay him a visit. Just once, Frigga. Go and see him just once."

The queen shook her head and sat down on a chair, her anger slowly being replaced by sadness. Odin had always valued her input, especially when it came to family. They made their decisions together when Thor was involved – so why did he suddenly decide to disregard her opinion? What was so special about that Jotun boy that it managed to cloud her husband's judgment?

"People would never accept this. The Council would never accept—"

"This is not a matter concerning the kingdom. The Council has no say in who I decide to accept into my family."

"_**My**_ family too, Odin," she paused, and lowered her voice to a barely audible level. "I understand that you feel sorry for the child, but… I am sorry, dear. I fear you are making a mistake this time."

She watched in awe as her king hung his head in defeat, and a genuinely disappointed expression crept up on his face. Any other day she would take pride in the fact that the man would let her see behind the emotionless mask he always seemed to wear as a ruler, but her own distress quickly redirected her thoughts this time.

Most of the Aesir knew about the Frost Giants only from tales. Horrible tales, might she add – they were the monsters children feared were hiding under their beds… the mindless beasts their warriors fought so bravely to protect Asgard not a day ago. Frigga knew better.

She wasn't overly familiar with the culture of the Jotnar, but she read enough to know that despite all appearances, the Giants were living in a civilized realm of their own. Different they may be from the Aesir alright – their demeanor and realm less merciful nowadays… but they were far from the senseless monsters people thought them to be. No, the Jotnar soldiers were harsh and unforgiving, but they were only doing what any Aesir would do in the times of war: following their king.

She did not know how much Laufey was to blame regarding the discrimination that greeted his people in the rest of the realms, but she was not delusional enough to think that every single Frost Giant was a creature capable only of violence and no intelligence whatsoever. The history books were filled with names of Jotnar with great achievements; due to their current… policies though, people decided to forget that they were indeed beings capable of feeling.

It wasn't even the rescued boy's blood or skin color that disturbed the queen, no. It was the notion that Odin would welcome a stranger into their family, uncaring for the fact that said stranger could bring harm to their _**own**_ son. She saw the marks on Torvin's face – no being with any sense left in them would be capable of dealing such damage to a warrior like the red-haired man. The child had been clearly tortured out of his wit a long time ago, and Odin was a fool if he thought he could tame a mind that might as well belong to an animal.

Frigga shivered at the concept. She did not agree with most of the nonsense her husband told her about adopting the little Jotun, but she had to admit that Odin was right in one thing though.

No creature should be pushed past the brink of insanity, much less a mere child.

"Just go and see him Frigga. That's all I'm asking for."

Odin of course, did not understand. Seeing the boy was exactly what the queen wanted to avoid. She might not have been ready to accept a son in the way her husband expected her to do, but she was not cold-blooded. If the child was just half as broken as Odin described…

The sight of cerulean skin would not prevent her heart from tearing up for sure.

No, Frigga had no wish to see the kid, not one bit.

"Alright. I will see him." She refrained from adding how her agreement did not pertain all of Odin's plans.

The All-Father's face lit up at her words, and for a moment Frigga felt incredibly guilty for knowing she would still refuse fulfilling his wish, even after visiting the Jotun.

"You should go to the Great Hall. You already missed most of the celebration yesterday. People would be waiting for their king to show up."

Frigga watched in silence as some of the tension left her husband's body before he nodded and left the chamber. He was hopeful, and she hated to be the one to crush his faith. It was incredible to see how lively he became once she told him she would consider his request. He looked younger without the constant worry marring his face, she realized. Less weary. Less like the king who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and so much more like the carefree man she fell in love with in her youth. She wished she could see him like this more often.

She wondered how this boy achieved smoothing out the frown lines between Odin's brows merely with his presence, when her own actions often failed to do so.

Her walk to the Healers' chambers was quite – most of the people were still feasting in the Hall. She barely stumbled upon guards even. Compared to a few days ago, the difference in the atmosphere was quite unbelievable. Now that Jotunheim was no longer a threat, people let themselves relax for the first time after a long period of constantly dreading an attack. Even though there were no people wandering the corridors, Frigga could practically see the color return to the hallways that were previously stripped from life. It was a comforting vision…

Very much unlike the expression of the Healer who almost bumped into her in her rush.

"My queen," Eir greeted her politely, halting her steps.

"Eir, it's good to see you," she smiled at the Healer, but the obvious distress on the woman's face was starting to catch up with her as well. "Is everything alright?"

"I— Yes. Yes, everything's fine, my queen. I was just about to… the All-Father told me to send for him if… if the boy awakened."

Ah. So the Jotun would survive his trials after all. In all honesty, Frigga couldn't yet decide if that was a blessing or a curse.

"I see. Odin joined the festivities in the Great Hall," she replied easily, but the almost palpable tension in the other woman's shoulders didn't let her mind rest. "You seem to be rather distracted, Eir. Are you sure everything is well?"

The Seidr fidgeted under the queen's gaze, and Frigga had to suppress her frown now. Eir was not one to get nervous easily – something serious must have happened to cause her such distress.

"Well… we had to relocate the boy to the dungeons…"

Frigga didn't bother to hide her emotions anymore. Her eyes narrowed at the Healer, disapproval radiating from every fiber of her body.

"I thought my husband made it clear the Jotun was not to be treated as a prisoner."

And it angered her, she realized. The boy was no son of hers, but she thought Eir could be trusted to treat him well…

"Of course, my queen, we merely… We didn't know where else we could contain him, really. He attacked everyone who tried to get close to him… screamed like a banshee whenever we tried to restrain him. His wounds are not quite healed yet, and I feared he would only injure himself further if he was—"

"Ah, but I see," she cut her off quickly, relief mixed with concern overtaking her in an instant. "I apologize Eir, I should have known you only had your patient's best interests at heart. You may go, I will inform Odin about this myself."

The woman looked a little uneasy before nodding – whether it was caused by the apology or the dismissal though, Frigga couldn't tell. Eir turned on her heel and marched back to her chambers, leaving the queen to process the words that she did not think should be passed down to Odin right this moment. She just managed to convince him to finally go and celebrate their victory after he spent almost all of yesterday fussing over Thor – for no apparent reason. He was obviously solicitous about the little Jotun's fate, but he deserved some time to unwind before something could crash his moment of peace once again.

No, she would not go to Odin about this, not right away anyway. No matter how much she didn't wish to face the child in his current state, she would take care about the situation herself. A wife was supposed to support her husband after all – even in times when she did not fully understand his choices.

The queen took a deep breath and turned towards the dungeons, idly wondering if she would regret her decision later.

* * *

And regret it she did – quite intensely at that.

Frigga had to admit she wasn't prepared for the sight that greeted her when she entered the dungeons. The Jotun was taken to a chamber at the far-end of the tunnel, isolated from the rest of the cells… reserved for the most gruesome criminals only.

She felt the slightest bit of relief when she spotted the bed and the tray of food in the cage – but it only lasted for a second. The meal was untouched, the water spilled over the floor, and she realized that there was nothing else inserted in there to make the boy more comfortable. Not even a blanket or a pillow.

"Are those… chains around his ankle?" she asked one of the guards when she noticed the piece of metal fastened around the too-thin limb, her voice cracking slightly at the sight.

"He kept running into the wards, Your Highness" the guard motioned to the transparent, protective shields that served as the walls of the holding cell on two sides. The chain seemed to end in the opposite corner – the same one the boy occupied now. "One of his burns was already bleeding when we noticed. It was the only way we could prevent him from reaching the fields."

Oh, she saw the blood alright. A way too deep gush decked the bony forearm, slowly dripping ruby liquid on the drawn up legs. The picture was rather… startling, to say the least.

How old could he be? He did look only a few years younger than Thor… Six, perhaps? Seven? Did Frost Giants even age the same way Aesir did?

"Did he… say anything?"

"Not much. Screaming and trashing around seems to be his favorite pastime," the man paused, a thoughtful look overtaking his features for a moment. "He shouted something like 'krova' a lot when Lady Eir tried to heal him, though… whatever in the Realms that must mean."

Frigga sighed. They would need someone who spoke the child's mother tongue, if they wanted to get through to him eventually. It wouldn't be easy to find someone like that – not many people dared to set foot on the frozen realm, and there were even less who returned with useful knowledge. As far as she knew most of the Jotnar learnt one form or another of the All-Speak… but there was no real reason for an Aesir to bother learning _**their**_ language.

The queen turned towards the guards as she contemplated her options. Maybe they could find a linguist…

"Thank you," she said somewhat distractedly, "You may leave now."

The two men exchanged doubtful glances, but unfortunately for them, Frigga wasn't in the mood to be questioned.

"But, Your Highness, the boy is a vicious one, and—"

"And he is in a cage I spelled myself. Do you really think your queen incapable of dealing with an injured child?" she asked the men sternly.

"I— o-of course not Your Highness, we are merely concerned about your—"

"If you dare to say safety, I will have you sent on duty in the stables."

The man gulped audibly and avoided her gaze.

"Leave at once."

They both left with a few murmured apologies, and Frigga found herself alone with the wounded child. Now, the only question was…

Where to go from there?

She took the few stairs that led up to the cell, intent on letting the wards down. No matter how vicious the guards thought him be, the boy was still chained – there was no reason for the magic to block the way.

She stepped inside the cage cautiously and cleared her throat as not to startle the kid. His blood red eyes shot up and narrowed at her instantly, but the lack of surprise in his gaze told her he had been very much aware of her presence even before she decided to announce it.

"Oh, little one… What have they done to you?" She couldn't help the words escaping her mouth when she took a better look at the burnt flesh. Patches of white were visible here and there, but there were no continuous birthmarks left on the tiny body. If this was the state he was in after a full session of healing, the queen was glad she didn't have to see him before Eir treated him yesterday.

She could clearly read the fear in those red orbs. They were questioning who she was and what she wanted from him. She saw the horror of past experiences in them, and the renewed dread of what was still to come.

Damn Odin for making her agree to this. Damn _**her**_ for not knowing better.

Frigga couldn't take the sight anymore. She was no Eir, but she could hold her part when it came to healing. The boy seemed to be quiet enough right now, maybe he would let her close enough to patch up a few nasty wounds at least. He must have been confused when he woke up earlier, but surely, he must have calmed down a bit now that he saw they meant him no harm…

"I'm not going to hurt you," she said after the Jotun pressed himself against the wall when she stepped closer. "I want to help," she went on in a soothing voice when the beginnings of panic settled on his sharp features. "I only want to heal you, see?"

Extending her arm and letting the faint glow of her magic light up in her palm seemed to be the wrong move. The child jumped into action without a second thought, sending his sharp, long nails into the back of her hand.

"Ul krowa!"

Frigga yanked her hand back instantly and withdrew to the part of the cell where his chains wouldn't let him reach her. She watched the creature struggle against the weight of the metal a bit before he retreated into his corner once again, his eyes filled with wrath at her intrusion.

For the love of the Norns, what horrors has that child been put through if he reacted to proximity so violently?

In all honesty, Frigga couldn't say she was surprised at his behavior. It had been her who voiced the concept of the Jotun being nothing more than a savage animal during her argument with Odin, after all. The child merely lived up to her expectations.

What surprised her though was the sudden lack of bestial rage in those shiny orbs when she looked at him again.

The Jotun was staring at her hand with wide eyes, fear replacing blood thirst in a matter of a heartbeat. Frigga raised her arm to see what frightened the boy so much, and she saw him flinch violently at the motion.

"Nivv'eh swo- swol. Ee nivv'eh…"

As keen as she had been about learning to communicate with the boy earlier, Frigga suddenly wished she didn't understand those words. She wished he wouldn't show regret mixed with dread upon realizing how his previous strike managed to tear the skin of the queen's hand. She wished she didn't see understanding in those eyes – acceptance towards the consequences of his actions that – yet unbeknown to him, wouldn't follow this time.

She wished she could look at him as if he was not more intelligent than an animal.

"Ah, but little one..."

She pleaded with him quietly, refusing to release the tears that were starting to blur her vision.

"What can I possibly do if you won't even let me heal you?"

She knew he couldn't understand her words, but the sight of him craning his neck, listening expectantly to whatever nonsense that may leave her mouth still broke her heart. Odin was wrong in thinking she would be able to help the poor child. He was wrong to put his faith in her this time… What could she do to fix something that was broken beyond repair?

"I don't know what to do with you," she admitted aloud, glad she decided to send the guards away. The Jotun blinked a few times and Frigga could clearly see his struggle with understanding the foreign speech. Apprehension never lit his face, but the queen realized his shaking eased when he became distracted by her voice.

"You like to listen to people talk, huh?" she tested her theory, and much to her delight, the boy's grip on his knees loosened, even if only slightly. Her misery slowly gave way to the confidence she seemed to have lost the moment she laid eyes on the child, and her tone was rich with determination when she turned to leave.

"Alright then."

Frigga had a hard time restraining herself from running. The library was too far for her liking, but she had some books in her chamber for the times she didn't have her hands full with Thor. Those would serve the purpose.

She grabbed the first book that caught her sight as she entered the room, only bothering to read its title when she was already on her way back. It was a romance novel. A rather sappy one too, if she remembered correctly. Well, no matter. He will not understand any of it anyway.

Unlike last time, the queen entered the dungeons with a clear purpose now. Perhaps she was not the most suitable person to help the child, but that didn't mean she couldn't do as much as lay within her power – however little that might have been.

She smiled sadly at the child when she noticed he didn't move an inch from where she left him, and sat down at the edge of the cage, leaning back against the wall.

And she began to read.

The words seemed to have a calming effect on the boy indeed, but Frigga could feel his gaze on her all the way through the first chapter. Then, she realized his stare didn't disturb her anymore. She read aloud for a good three hours before her throat started to feel raw, but she did not stop until sleep slowly took her another hour later.

She never noticed Odin standing at the entrance, smiling faintly as he watched her doze off with the book still in her lap.

* * *

_Hi there! Just thought I would mention that the next update will probably come next weekend only - I have some work to do until then. Anyway, thank you so much for your reviews, reading your opinion truly inspires me to write more. :) See you all in a few days!_


	4. Chapter 3: Let him come to you

_Chapter 3: Let him come to you _

The throbbing in her neck was the first thing that registered in Frigga's mind as she slowly came to her senses. She didn't move, not wanting to worsen the ache, but the moment she realized where she was she deemed that to be a wise decision for more than just one reason.

She could feel the child's presence even with her eyes closed. He didn't make any movement that would disturb the silence, and it wasn't the slight coldness radiating from his skin that gave him away either. The queen couldn't tell which one of her senses picked up on the Jotun's proximity, but she could feel him being close to her – much closer than before she fell asleep.

She refrained from stretching her muscles and change into a more comfortable position – she didn't want him to notice she was awake just yet. She made an effort to keep her breathing slow and even, and for long minutes the boy gave no signs to indicate he was aware of her consciousness. Curiosity finally got the best of her when she heard the telltale clanking of chains nearby, and decided to risk cracking an eye open, hoping it would go unnoticed by the child.

The blue form was half-kneeling next to her just out of arm's reach, and his expression told her he was too absorbed in something to notice her stare. His thin body was hunched in a strange position, leaning forward so much that he had to support his weight on his trembling arms. His chains were stretched to their limit, and the queen suddenly realized that he was only enduring the uncomfortable looking position in order to get closer to her. For a moment she didn't understand why he had a sudden change of heart about her nearness, but the subject of his interest became clear once she saw his lips move, forming soundless words.

The book still rested on her lap – open at the page where she left off – and much to her surprise, the small Jotun appeared to be studying the script from afar. His brows were furrowed in concentration and for a moment she wondered if he recognized some of the letters. It was a foolish thought considering how he probably wasn't taught to read even in his own language, but the way his mouth moved in silence reminded her of a child who has just been introduced to the world of letters.

Not wanting to startle him Frigga closed her eyes and sighed audibly, stirring to indicate she was about to rouse. Surely enough, the boy had retreated to his corner by the time she caught sight of him again, curled up against the wall and pretending to sleep.

It took her a moment to realize that she never heard the chains move. _'How did he do that?'_

She took a tentative step towards the Jotun, but stopped immediately when she saw his whole body flinch at the sound. He was obviously struggling to stay calm and keep his façade up, and Frigga was saddened by the fact that the little reliance he seemed to show previously was gone the moment she closed the book. She knew he acted merely out of self-preservation, but no matter how much he wished to be left alone, she was still reluctant to comply due to his current condition.

The woman let her eyes roam around the room briefly, willing to quell her hesitance. The food was still untouched in the corner, the goblet of water knocked over, which prompted her to make a mental note to have another tray sent down for the night... Along with the thickest blanket and the fluffiest pillow she could find in this palace.

Dismissing her inner debate she placed the book on the floor where he could reach it and turned towards the entrance, sending a last longing look to the blue creature. She was very much aware that Odin was trying to play on her compassion, but the state the boy was in softened her heart regardless. It didn't mean she agreed with her husband, but she could certainly understand his perspective better.

No, it most definitely did not mean Frigga agreed with Odin. Not by a long shot. But maybe…

She could come back in the morning to check on the child. Just to see if he ate. Maybe he would even let her heal him…

Or she could just leave the Jotun in the care of Eir. The Healer was better suited to treat his injuries, after all.

Frigga snorted at the thought. Leave him to Eir. Right. As if her conscience would let her do that. No, she would come back tomorrow. Just once more. Just to check on him. Just to try to heal him, and to see if he ate. Just one more visit, and that was it.

And if she happened to pick up another book on her way down… well, Odin wouldn't have to know about that.

…

Morning couldn't come fast enough for the queen of Asgard. For the first time in years, she was glad that Thor was an early riser.

Frigga didn't get much sleep after returning from the dungeons. She wasn't sure about the time, but it must have been quite late since both Odin and Thor had already been sound asleep. She felt a pang of guilt for not being the one to tuck her son in, but she felt even guiltier for the fact that it wasn't Thor occupying her mind during the dreamless hours that followed.

She had been woken from an uneasy slumber by her son's voice not long after sunrise, and was glad to be greeted by Thor's always so eager face. After sharing a peaceful breakfast with her family she proceeded to make the young prince presentable for tutoring, and miraculously, she even managed to find the time to share a few words with her husband in private when the boy was busy making his cape stay in the right place.

She told Odin that the Jotun had been relocated to the dungeons, but despite her expectations, he didn't seem to be the least surprised. His only reply was that Eir would move the child up to the Healers' chambers once she deemed fit, and that Frigga needn't worry about the situation. His easy dismissal clashed with his previous insistence on taking the little sorcerer in quite sharply, enraging Frigga for a reason she didn't quite understand. She was just about to voice her not so high opinion about Odin's self-contradictory behavior when she noticed a small smile playing on his lips, and whatever comment she might have had died on her own lips instantly.

Driven by fury the queen made a show of picking up a book she used to read out from to Thor when he was a bit younger, and stormed out of their chambers with the unconcealed intention of paying a visit to the Jotun.

On her way down Frigga realized she didn't quite understand why she was so angry with Odin. It wasn't like he forced her to comply with his request – she was the one who decided to go the dungeons again.

It was perhaps that damn smirk of his that added the insult to the injury – the one that said he knew exactly this was going to happen. That victorious expression suggested he knew she was going to give in, and she hated his confidence for the first time she could remember. She hated that he thought he was right, and she hated that little voice in the back of her mind even more for whispering he had a reason to think so.

The woman didn't acknowledge the guards in her haste when she reached her destination, not even bothering to dismiss them like the previous day. She studied the book in her hands for a second after entering, not really knowing why she brought it along now that she was there. She had absolutely no intention to read for the child again – not if her stay would make Odin draw the wrong conclusions. She only grabbed it to… to make a point.

Frigga couldn't for the life of her remember what that point might have been though, but it didn't matter anymore. All thoughts of her infuriating husband fled her mind the instant she laid eyes on the cerulean skinned child, who had yet to notice her presence.

The little sorcerer was crouching in the same corner she left him, completely engrossed in the romance novel Frigga had brought down the previous day. He was drawing straight lines on the floor with a bony finger, and the queen cringed when she realized his canvas was made up from his own dried blood. His movements were slow and unsteady, but his occasional glances at the book told her that he was trying to copy the text.

The queen couldn't honestly say she wasn't shocked by the sight. Sure, the boy seemed to be interested in the script yesterday, but she didn't really think he would know what to do with a book besides perhaps flipping the pages idly. Yet there he was copying letters, as if he had done so at least—

Oh… Frigga bit her lip in shame when it hit her. She never really considered the possibility that the Jotun _**could**_ indeed read – even if only in his own language. Odin was not the only one who tended to draw the wrong conclusions, it seemed.

Curious to what he might have written down she walked up to the cage, deliberately making her steps louder when she noticed that the boy was too focused on the novel to detect her presence. She was already at the stairs when he finally looked up, his red eyes going wide in a manner she was all too familiar with now. Frigga smiled at him in an attempt to ease his distress, but much to her chagrin, the dread failed to leave his shiny orbs. She stepped inside the cage in an as non-threating posture as she could muster without actually sitting down, but the child apparently wasn't ready to receive guests just yet.

She was already retreating when he picked the book up hastily, fearing he planned to attack her for the intrusion again, but the Jotun didn't even look at her before he left the corner.

He half-run, half-crawled up to the queen with a speed that didn't cease to amaze her, and Frigga had to use all her willpower to stay still when he came to a halt at her feet. She watched in a slightly terrified awe as he placed the novel back to the same exact spot she had left it, raising his head only for a brief second to check her reaction. His fearful eyes met hers for a heartbeat before he started to move back, his apologetic expression matching Thor's when he was caught making trouble.

Frigga couldn't help the sad sigh that escaped her lips. Why did he have to look at her as if she was threatening him with fire if he misbehaved? Why did he have to think she would punish him for simply touching that damned book? What did she do to deserve seeing those beautifully broken eyes being drenched in pain beyond her comprehension?

And more importantly, what did **_he_** do to deserve having that kind of dread implanted deeply in his very being? What could a child even possibly do to deserve such fate?

There were myriads of questions she would probably never get an answer to, and a small, selfish part of her was grateful for that. Answers would hurt, and she wasn't sure her heart could take more agony at the moment. Frigga has never been one to seek revenge, but oh, how she wished she could get her hands on the child's tormentor for a minute. Just one single minute would be enough.

Ill will has hardly ever helped anyone though, so the woman took a deep breath, willing her mind to clear from the disturbing thoughts. Never mind Odin and his assumptions – she would gladly read for the child if it would make him stop clutching his knees to his chest in that miserably pitiful way.

She was just about to sit down at the edge of the cage, the children's book already open in her hands, when the crimson color caught her eye, reminding the queen of her previous intentions. She took a small step closer – pretending not to be wounded by the way the boy's fragile body tensed up – and started to examine the organized mess on the floor he created.

The shaky hands and thin fingers left surprisingly straight lines in the dried blood, though Frigga had to tilt her head a bit for the shapes to become clear. She was mildly startled at how accurately the sorcerer managed to copy the letters down, but the symbols he choose to arrange in a word didn't make sense for the queen. Neither did the last character actually – further proving the fact that the Jotun must have learnt a different alphabet at some point – but the first four letters she could read – even if she couldn't understand.

"LůKa," she spelled out in a whisper, but her tone was apparently loud enough to reach the boy's ears. His head shot up at the word, and though there was confusion written on his face, the reaction still gave the woman an idea.

Of course. It was so obvious. What was the first thing that every child learnt to write down – long before they could start constructing more complex words and sentences?

"Is that your name, little one? Luka?" she asked in a curious tone, careful to keep her voice leveled.

His confusion seemed to melt away slightly with her question, and Frigga could clearly see when realization set in on those soft features.

"Luka," she repeated kindly, and the renewed attention he was rewarding her with dissolved her doubts at once. She was sure now that Luka was the boy's name – or, well, at least a part of it. The slight raise of his eyebrows told her she probably didn't get it quite right, but it would have to do for now.

"You have an interesting name, Luka," she smiled as she sat down on the floor, proud at how she managed to distract the child with her voice enough to keep him from jolting. "I'm Frigga," she placed a hand on her chest, and repeated her name to get her point through. She sighed when the Jotun gave no indication he understood what she was trying to say, his stare remaining stubbornly fixated on her hand.

While studying the sorcerer's curious, yet blank expression, a dark thought started to form at the back of Frigga's mind. What if she was right about the boy in her first assessment? Reading and writing skills aside, maybe he _**was**_ far too gone to be led back into civilized settings. He already attacked her once after all, tearing the skin on—

Oh. So that was what his eyes were searching for so intensively. She healed the scratches on the back of her hand before she returned to her chambers yesterday, not wanting to distress her husband with the petty injury for no reason. The child must have been at a loss regarding where the cuts went, and the simple fact that he actually took notice of the missing wound managed to leave the slight aftertaste of hope on the queen's tongue.

She was perfectly aware that she still might have been right about the boy being nothing more than a savage animal, but… well, a losing battle was still a battle to be fought, and the Queen of Asgard wouldn't be worthy of her title if she turned back at the first obstacle, would she?

"You didn't eat much I see," she observed the tray that someone brought down during the night, resigned to the fact that the food would continue to be left untouched. "Aren't you even thirsty?"

"I think I saw him drink, Your Highness," came the deep voice of a guard from the entrance, reminding Frigga about their presence. "He was chewing on… an icicle… just before you arrived," he finished somewhat unsurely, and the queen could tell he was half-expecting her to laugh at him.

She didn't laugh though – the boy was a Frost Giant, it was normal for him to have the ability to create frozen water. Letting it melt in his mouth was apparently enough to keep him hydrated, and Frigga felt a slight weight being lifted off of her shoulders. Now, if only she could get him to eat a little…

She glanced at the tray next to the bed and examined its content for a while, and a moment later she had the sudden urge to smack herself in the head. Why did this not occur to her earlier?

The tray was packed with so much food that it would easily fill the stomach even of the fiercest Aesir warrior – but that was just the problem. The Aesir differed so much from the Jotnar, both in appearance and habitat… Who was there to say they didn't differ in their nutritional regime as well?

"Send someone to the kitchens," she said to the guard above her shoulder, eyeing the meal with slight disdain. She wasn't very fond of roasted boar, and considering how a child who seemed nearly starved to death refused to touch it, he probably wouldn't disagree with her on the matter. "Have them brought down…" she paused for a moment, unsure about what to feed someone who was born in a realm without fire. What did Frost Giants eat? She seriously started to regret that she never looked up what Jotunheim provided her people with as sustenance. "Have them bring down a bit of everything we have," she finally decided. "Fruit, seeds, cheese... raw meat. Make sure there is nothing cooked."

"As you wish, Your Highness," the guard bowed to her respectfully and hurried off to comply with her request.

Frigga noticed that her commanding tone had made the boy back further into the wall, so she decided to try and comfort him with some reading. She was glad when her words elicited the same reaction as they did yesterday – speech seemed to be the only thing his response was consistent to.

Not ten minutes later the queen was surveying the contents of the trays that the servants arrived with and left next to the one already there, contemplating what to offer to the Frost Giant first. True to her words, there really was a bit of everything the cooks could possibly find, yet she had trouble deciding which one would suit his tastes the most.

She didn't have to ponder for too long though – Luka's expression shifted into curios interest the moment he saw her reach out for a green apple. There must have been fruits that adapted to the harsher climate of Jotunheim, and if the child's hungry gaze was any indication, apples were clearly one of them.

"Would you like to try one?" she extended her arm towards him, offering the pome with hopeful eyes. "Come now, little one… you will like it, I'm sure."

Sadly, the woman's pleading was only enough to earn herself a suspicious glare. Desperate to rid him of mistrust she took a small bite, then approached the boy and placed the apple on the floor at his feet. She didn't suppress her smile when she made it back to her previous spot without even getting a dirty look from him, deliberately ignoring the fact that he might have been simply too preoccupied with his hunger to lash out for the intrusion of his personal space.

"Go on," she cooed, "Eat it. It's yours."

For painfully long minutes, Frigga waited. The boy didn't seem to have any intentions to move, and she didn't intend to leave without ensuring he was fed. A perfect impasse, if there ever was one.

She studied the extent of his injuries while she waited for him to make a move. Most of them were closed up, but the highest layer of his skin was still missing where it had been burned too deeply. His left forearm seemed to be in the worst condition – it was probably the wound that opened again when he tried to escape the cell. Even from afar Frigga could tell it would only take the lightest of touches for it to start bleeding again. It was a truly mortifying sight.

Much to her surprise, her distracted expression seemed to be all it took for him to finally reach for the fruit. He retracted his arm before he could grab it though, and her gaze met with ruby eyes full of questions.

Was it okay for him to take that apple? Would he get punished for doing so? Did she even mean for him to have it?

Not knowing how to communicate her intensions better she smiled at him reassuringly, adding a few words of encouragement merely because she knew he would probably like to hear her talk.

"Fear not now, little one. Take it," she motioned to the green sphere, softening her voice impossibly more. "Please take it, Luka."

Whether it was his name or the desperation that slipped into her voice she couldn't tell, but it seemed to have the desired effect. Luka reached for the apple in a more steady motion than before, but he still paused in mid-air to look up at her, his eyes silently asking for permission. Frigga's smile widened when his fingers finally encircled the fruit. He grabbed it hastily and clutched it to his chest and the woman had to suppress a chuckle as his expression morphed into a snarl the moment she shifted, daring her to take the apple back. A possessive little thing he was.

His injuries didn't prevent him from devouring the fruit with an appetite that easily rivaled even that of Thor's after a long day of sparring, but the queen's spirit fell slightly when she heard him hiss upon bending his arm too quickly. Soon there was blood trickling down on his wrist, and while the amount was nowhere near life-threatening, it still helped her to make a decision. That burn had to be healed, and even though she didn't want to frighten the boy further, she wouldn't take no for an answer.

After Luka was done with the apple – leaving no trace of the core – Frigga took a leap of courage and reached out to gently coax his injured arm into her hands. His eyes instantly filled with rage at the unwanted touch, but he didn't attack or push her away like she expected him to. Putting her astonishment aside she wasted no time in fully encircling the thin wrist with her fingers, letting the familiar light of her healing power emit from her other hand. The Jotun's expression changed into fear in a heartbeat, but instead of lashing out he only forced his eyes shut and turned his head from the sight. It took Frigga a moment to decipher the meaning of his actions, and for the hundredth time that day, she wished she wouldn't understand his motives.

He thought she was going to hurt him, and sadly enough, that wasn't even the worst part. The fact that he was _**letting**_ her hurt him told her much more about the horrors he had to face during his short years. Was it because of the apple? Has food always came at such a high price where he had been living so far? Was that kind of cruelty what he was accustomed to?

"You are fine, little one. This will only take a minute," she forced the words out through gritted teeth, her rage with his tormentors winning the battle against her grief. "Just a little more, Luka. Stay still just a little more for me," she pleaded, hoping her voice would give some reassurance to the child. Thankfully, the wound closed up quickly due to Eir's previous treatment, but the kid didn't open his eyes once during the process. The queen knew he could only feel some slight tingling around the area she was working on, yet every muscle in his body was tense, expecting the pain to set in any moment. His frightful, yet resigned expression simply didn't let her concentrate, and it seemed like mere words didn't erase his apprehension this time.

The burn was close to being fully healed, but the sorcerer seemed to get closer and closer to scream bloody murder with each passing second. Frigga opened her mouth again, but whatever she intended to say got replaced halfway by a lullaby she learnt from her mother.

"High above the mountains, deep below the sea…"

The sound of her singing apparently surprised the child enough for him to crack one eye open, but the look he sent towards the woman was so hostile Frigga had to gulp to keep her voice steady.

"…Hidden in a realm, where no one could see…"

The lullaby wasn't very long, but it didn't matter. The wound was gone by the time she got to the end of the second verse, and so was his spiteful glare the moment she let go of his arm.

"There," she beamed at him like a child who just received the best birthday present one could wish for. "All better now, isn't it?"

Luka was still holding his hand in the air, obviously expecting her to do something more. He narrowed his eyes at the woman suspiciously, but her only response was a lighthearted chuckle, which prompted him to examine the result of her magic. The flesh above his wrist was still a bit purple, but it was in a way better condition than before. Even one of the thin white lines reappeared, making him gawk at his own birthmark.

He barely had time to register her movements when she was already placing another apple at his feet, the radiant smile never leaving her face.

"Now, how about we do that again? You eat the apple, and then you let me heal another burn."

The suspicion still lingered in the boy's eyes, but the queen wasn't planning on giving up after such a fruitful endeavor.

"Go on Luka, take it," she gestured to the fruit, "Eat, little one. Eat it for me."

And so he did. Surely enough, it took more than just a few words and a couple of forced smiles to convince him to let her heal another burn on his arm, but Frigga was anything but impatient. While the distress never quite left his body, Luka seemed to be slowly becoming a willing participant in the whole process, and in turn, Frigga never stopped humming the same song over and over again – not even when it became obvious he wouldn't flip.

By the time she managed to make him devour the fourth apple he was even willing to open his eyes while she was working on his injuries, keenly observing the procedure with unmasked curiosity. Despite being a Seidr he had clearly never had the chance to witness the workings of healing magic before, and Frigga vowed to explain the basics of it to him if they ever learnt to communicate with each other.

Or, well... on a second thought, maybe that wasn't such a brilliant idea. This was supposed to be a one-time visit after all, wasn't it? Her original intentions included feeding him and healing him only. She could leave the rest to the Healers – they would certainly take good care of the boy.

But oh, the things she could teach him about his magic…

She was already working on a burn near his shoulder when she noticed that his slight trembling worsened. His eyes widened as they studied her hand moving forward, and while he tried to sit as still as possible, his features couldn't hide the fact that he was becoming more and more agitated. She couldn't blame him, really – having a source of light so close to his face obviously didn't sit well with his experiences.

"That should be enough for now, don't you think?" she lowered her arm and let go of his wrist, refusing to be hurt by the way he exhaled in obvious relief. "Perhaps you should rest a bit. Being healed is more exhausting for the body than actually healing someone," she said to the Jotun, completely ignoring the fact that he didn't understand anything of her rambling. He seemed to relax at her words, and compared to yesterday's happenings, she was immensely pleased with their current progress.

Still wary about moving in the space in which he could reach her freely, Frigga stood up slowly, collected the children's book she brought and placed it at his feet – along with the novel from yesterday. Seeing how the boy was busy with staring at the renewed birth lines on his left arm she took the liberty of fetching three more apples, a pear, and the pillow she had sent down with the servants, and carefully laid them next to the books as well.

"Here, Luka," her soft voice caught his attention and dragged him out of his astonished state, but the awe never quite left his crimson orbs. "You should eat these too. And sleep a bit before I…" she paused in mid-sentence, unwilling to imply she would return, even though she knew the meaning of her words wouldn't be deciphered. "…before someone comes to heal the rest of your wounds."

The child's baffled expression didn't change as she stepped out of the cage and turned back to make sure he would take the fruits, and this time she didn't mind that it took her a bit longer to convince him he was supposed to have them.

The queen only turned to leave after the boy grasped the pear uncertainly and held it to his chest, intent on telling Eir about the way she approached him. If the Healer would follow the steps she set up, she would certainly manage to patch him up without the fit he insisted on throwing previously. The secret seeemed to be in the words – if she talked to him the right way, then surely…

But what if he reacted positively to Frigga's voice only? What if he didn't get soothed by another one's speech?

…And why did she selfishly wish he wouldn't?

Frigga let out a defeated sigh at the notion. She really shouldn't let her protective nature take control of her decisions like that, and she most definitely shouldn't think about coming back in the evening…

Her walk to the Great Hall was quiet and undisturbed, and after a while she got so lost in thought she barely noticed her husband appearing in front of her, probably on his way to his study. The man stopped in his track warily, and Frigga had to hide a smile at the familiar way he was trying to read her mood.

"How is he faring?" the king asked in a still somewhat cautious manner, and Frigga was simply unable to hold onto her resentment towards the man. She knew she shouldn't forget about that infuriating smirk he regarded her with just an hour ago, but she could never keep being angry with him for long – especially not when he acted lost as a child. It seemed like despite the long centuries they have spent together, the inner workings of her mind would always remain a mystery to the man.

"He's improving," she replied in a light tone, smiling when she saw Odin relax at her words. She seemed to have a calming effect on children today. "He actually let me heal him a little, but I'm sending Eir down to treat him properly."

"Good," was all he provided with an unreadable expression, his stillness prompting her to go on.

"It's going to take some time until he gets better, but he's a strong child," she paused, biting her lip in thought before she added the next part. "He's… more than I anticipated."

The quiet admission might have been a little uncertain, but it was enough for Odin. That knowing look Frigga currently loathed so much crept up on his face again, and suddenly she felt just as defensive as she did the first time he showed that expression.

"That doesn't mean I consent, Odin," she said sternly and walked past the man without sparing him another glance, unwilling to acknowledge that his smile still affected her just as much as it did the first day they met.

"Of course not, my dear," he retorted simply in an amused tone, and Frigga pretended not to hear him mutter under his breath as he set out in the opposite direction. "Not yet."


End file.
